by L. A. Witt
A woman around Jessica’s age was signing in couples—we were apparently not the only ones with this idea—and as soon as we got close to the heart-festooned desk, she looked at Erin and Zach. “Can I get your names, sweetheart?”
Erin jumped when she realized the woman was asking her. “Oh. No, no. We’re not getting married. I mean . . . not today.”
“Not today?” Zach and I asked in unison.
She glanced at each of us and shrugged. “Not today, and maybe not to each other.” There was no venom in the comment, and her eyes sparkled with mischief.
Zach laughed, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “That’s cold, baby.” Erin just batted her eyes, and he chuckled before kissing her cheek. Yeah, they’d be all right.
Then Erin turned back to the woman at the counter. “Anyway, my dad’s the one getting married.” She pointed at me.
The woman looked my way. “All right. And where is your lovely fiancée?”
Darren shyly raised a hand.
“Oh my!” She grinned, winking at me. “You snagged yourself a looker, didn’t you?”
I laughed, and Darren blushed as bright as all the hearts decorating the chapel. Wrapping an arm around him, I kissed his cheek. “She’s right, you know.”
“Hey, I got a looker too.” He gazed up at me with the sweetest smile, and for as cynical and antiromantic as I could be, damn if he didn’t make my heart do funny things.
After we signed in, we sat down in the chapel where another couple was about to get married. There wasn’t a hell of a lot else to do unless we wanted to go back out into the blazing desert, so why not?
Vic and Jessica sat next to us, hands joined as they smiled up at the other couple. Behind us, Emily played quietly on Erin’s phone, and the whispering going back and forth between Zach and Erin made me smile. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but whatever had been causing them problems recently seemed, at least for the time being, smoothed over. Hopefully they wouldn’t get into the spirit of things and get married—not until they’d had some time to be on an even keel again—but I was glad the tension had eased between them.
The couple in the front of the chapel read through the vows they’d written, voices unsteady but words sincere and heartfelt. It was all I could do not to groan. My vows would not be so great. I’d been struggling with them for a while now, even emailing back and forth with Erin, Jessica, Lisa, Marcy, and Paula for advice, and I still wasn’t happy with them. Darren had his heart set on this whole writing-our-own-vows thing, and I wasn’t about to veto it, but . . . I hoped his expectations were low. I was a lot of things, but poetic and eloquent were not among them. I supposed he knew me well enough to realize that.
The next couple was much younger than either of us. They appeared sober, which might’ve meant they were too young to drink. Hell, I’d have been surprised if either of them were older than nineteen.
And I couldn’t take my eyes off them.
As I watched the two kids go through the motions, it was hard not to see myself standing up there. Not in this chapel with Darren like I would be soon, but in a stuffy church twenty-some-odd years ago. Back when I’d been around their age. When I’d married Marcy. It wasn’t something I looked back on like this very often. I remembered it clearly enough, and I’d certainly thought about it a lot in the last several weeks, but it felt different now. Like instead of just remembering the ceremony as it had happened, I was sitting in a pew in that church, gazing up at my young, idealistic self, madly in love with the girl I’d lost my virginity to in high school.
I hadn’t had a clue back then. The commitment I’d been making had been a romantic, abstract thing. Something that had seemed easy at the time because I loved her, she loved me, and what else did we need? We didn’t know what we were getting into because we didn’t even know ourselves yet. I’d had no idea what it meant to be a husband. A father. A cop. A man. It was hard to remember ever being that way, though sometimes I saw hints of it in Darren.
He was older than I’d been when I’d married the first time. To a degree, he was still young and idealistic, but he was grounded in reality too. He’d been through things men twice his age couldn’t imagine. Losing his brother. His own brush with death. Facing the possibility of a deadly disease. Through it all, somehow, he’d never forgotten how to smile. He was still playful and adorable, still optimistic and spontaneous. People had worried my cynicism would rub off on him, but I was starting to think the opposite was true.
The officiant declared the young couple married, and after an eager kiss, they practically sprinted up the aisle, probably ready to make a beeline for the nearest hotel.
We retreated to the small lobby. Our turn was coming up, and we needed to make sure everyone was ready while the next couple married ahead of us.
As Erin and Jessica fussed over Emily’s dress, I caught myself staring at my fiancé again.
He had his note cards in his hand, and was reading over his vows again. His vows that were probably a hell of a lot more romantic and eloquent than mine ever would be.
And that was suddenly a lot more frustrating than it had been earlier. Not just because I hated how my own writing sounded, but because the vows I’d written seemed inadequate. Like they couldn’t begin to touch on why I needed to be married to him now.
Our relationship had never been the starry-eyed romance I’d had with Marcy; it’d been riddled with disasters from the start. We couldn’t stand each other at first. Didn’t trust each other. When we’d finally broken through that, there’d been no time for a honeymoon period. And then he’d nearly bled out in my arms.
I shuddered at the memory, and Darren smiled and squeezed my hand.
It was breathtaking how much I loved this man. Darren had seen me at my worst. He’d seen the jaded asshole who’d distrusted him from the start. Who’d hated him just for being assigned to me when I hadn’t wanted a partner.
And once we’d moved past each other’s barriers, I’d never felt more crazy in love. He’d stubbornly refused to be put off by my bad attitude and worse reputation, or the fact that I was HIV positive, or that I had kids nearly his age and a mother from hell. He’d found something charming in my admittedly difficult-to-live-with personality even though, more than anyone else in the world, he knew me.
And that was it, wasn’t it? Darren knew me. For better or worse, he knew me like no one else, and he was still sitting beside me, a wedding ring in his tuxedo pocket, waiting to get married. To me. Marcy and I had been clueless kids, but Darren and I were going into this with our eyes wide open, knowing exactly who we were and who we were marrying.
As that epiphany settled in my head, I had to swallow a couple of times to keep my emotions in check. Whatever idealistic feelings I’d had when I’d gotten married the first time, they were nothing compared to the pure devotion I had for Darren. Walking down the aisle with him was a no-brainer because I would walk through fire for him. He’d proven—more times than any man should have to—that he would do the same for me. Despite a million reasons why any sane person would have jumped ship a long time ago, Darren was still here.
My heart sped up. I nudged Erin. “Do you have a pen?”
“I think so.” She dug around in her purse, then withdrew a blue pen. “Here.”
“Thanks.” I stepped to the side of the room and took my own note cards from my inside pocket. After I’d crossed out the garbage I’d written before, I flipped them over to the blank sides and started writing.
After what seemed like forever, the woman told us it was our turn.
“I’m surprised you weren’t getting impatient,” Darren whispered on the way into the chapel. His tone was light, but with a note of concern too. He knew me, and he knew I hated having to wait for any goddamned thing.
“Nope, not impatient.” I glanced at him and smiled. “Gave me some time to edit my vows.”
His eyebrows jumped. “Edit them?”
I shrugged but didn’t elaborate.
“Okay, honey.” Jessica put the little basket of flowers into Emily’s hands. “You ready?”
“Yes, Grandma.”
I loved that she called Jessica Grandma now. I was pretty sure Jessica did too.
Erin and Jessica gave her a little nudge, and she started down the aisle. With butterflies in my stomach, I took Darren’s hand and, behind my daughter as she tossed little rose petals on the bright-pink carpet, walked with him up to the front of the chapel.
The photographer probably took more pictures of her than he would of us, but that was fine with me. Her mom would be thrilled, and I suspected everyone—us, the kids, Lisa, Jessica, and Vic—would have flower girl pictures all over our houses for years to come.
At the front of the chapel, Emily stopped, then threw up her arms in a triumphant gesture, which overturned the basket and sent the remaining petals cascading down onto her head. She giggled, and Darren and I laughed. So did everyone else in the room. The photographer’s flash went off several times, so I hoped he got at least one shot of her with the petals raining down. That would be one for my wallet. And dresser. And refrigerator. And wall.
I crouched and hugged her gently. “Good job, sweetie. Can you go sit with Grandma and Erin now?”
“Okay.” She kissed my cheek, and went to join everyone else.
I stood, brushing a few of the petals off my jacket, but not making much of an effort to get them all. The sort-of-Elvis officiant smiled at us from behind his podium which, like everything here, was dripping with red hearts made of paper, plastic, and God knew what else. I had to suppress a chuckle as I imagined my mother’s horror when she one day saw our photos.
Darren and I faced each other, both grinning like idiots and holding hands while the officiant got started. He quickly checked the paper in front of him—probably making sure he had our names right—then went through the usual opening spiel. “We are gathered here” and all that shit. I didn’t hear much of it over the sound of my pounding heart.
After a while, Darren let go of one of my hands and reached into his coat pocket. As he took out the note cards, I realized the officiant must’ve gotten to the part where we’d read the vows we’d written. Nerves fluttered in my gut. I was happier with mine now, but facing the prospect of actually saying them out loud made my stomach clench. I meant them. Every word. But could I say them?
Darren took a deep breath. “So before we met, I had a plan.” He smiled a little. “It was a good plan. Go to college, become a cop, bust my ass to make detective before thirty, captain before forty, and commissioner before fifty. I had it all worked out.” His smile got a little bigger. “And then I got you as my partner, and I figured out real fast that life doesn’t care about plans. You weren’t like anyone I’d ever met before, and for a while, I didn’t think that was a good thing.”
Darren pulled up the next card, shuffling with one hand so he didn’t have to let go of mine. “You didn’t fit into my plans. You didn’t fit into the future I had all thought out for myself, and yet you’ve ended up being the absolute best thing—the best person—in my life. You give me devotion and love and, sometimes, a much-needed kick in the ass.” Someone—probably Vic—coughed out a laugh. I didn’t check. I couldn’t pull my gaze away from Darren, who still had his note cards but apparently didn’t need to look at them anymore to say what he wanted to say.
“You shared your family with me, and I will never be able to tell you how much that means to me. You stayed with me when life hurt me so badly I couldn’t even breathe, much less say thank you. You have never, ever backed away from me, not even when—” he took a shuddery breath “—when you weren’t sure I’d remember you in a few years. You never back away, and you never back down, and I know you never will. I want you to know that I won’t back down either. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone else, Andreas, and I always will.”
There was some sniffling in the front row, and I didn’t dare look. If I saw Erin or Jessica crying, I’d lose it myself, and I was already on shaky ground.
Pretending I wasn’t more nervous than I’d ever been in my life, I took my own note cards from my inside pocket.
Well, here goes . . .
I pulled in a breath, then started reading. “So, this kind of thing is not my strong point. You’ve known from the start that being poetic, or romantic, or even acknowledging that I have feelings is not exactly my forte.”
Darren laughed softly, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. I could hear Erin smothering a giggle too. I couldn’t help chuckling myself, and that eased some of the tension. Some.
“Shut up, you two,” I said, which only made them laugh harder. When they’d calmed down a little, I cleared my throat. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to say here. How to tell you how much I love you, and what it means to me to have you in my life and to have you as my husband. And I just hope the words I finally picked out say it as clearly as I feel it.” I looked at him, and the humor had vanished. He stared at me, wide-eyed, quite possibly as shocked as I was.
Shifting my gaze back to the card, I continued. “Darren, you’re my partner in every sense of the word, and in all of those ways—as the man who watches my back at work and who puts up with me at home—you’re everything I never knew I wanted in a partner. You’re the strongest, most resilient person I’ve ever met. You let me lean on you when I don’t even want to admit I need to lean. We’ve been through hell together, and every time, I’m amazed by who you are when we get to the other side. You don’t just survive things that would’ve crushed most people, you come out still smiling. If there’s—” My voice caught, but I recovered. “If there’s anything in this world I aspire to be, it’s to be half the partner that you are.”
Darren’s breath hitched. I glanced at him, but couldn’t keep looking at him if I wanted my vision to stay clear enough to read my hastily scrawled vows.
“You saw the worst of me right from the start,” I went on. “And you still stayed around long enough to bring out the best. You’ve . . .” My voice threatened to break again, and I had to clear my throat twice this time. Darren squeezed my hand, and when I met his gaze, the tears in his eyes almost did me in. The sniffling coming from the rows of seats didn’t help at all.
“I love you, Darren,” I said, voice thick but holding. “And I guess what this all comes down to is that you’ve had my back from day one, and you have my heart until the end.”
A choked sound escaped his throat, and then he was against me, cupping my face and kissing me, both our faces wet and both of us trembling. All around us, people clapped, and I was pretty sure I heard more sniffling.
Darren touched his forehead to mine. “I . . . did not expect any of that.”
I smiled, brushing a tear from his cheek. “You were pretty good yourself.”
He laughed and kissed me again.
The officiant muffled a cough. “Well, you’re a little early to this part, but I suppose you can be forgiven. Shall we continue?”
We laughed as we drew apart, murmuring sheepish apologies while we wiped our eyes.
“I’m pretty sure we all know the answers, but tradition is tradition,” the man said. “Darren, do you take Andreas to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”
I didn’t think I’d ever seen Darren smile that big, and that said a lot. Looking right into my eyes, holding my hands tightly, he said, “I do.”
“Andreas, do you take Darren to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”
“I do.” And never in my life had I meant anything like I meant those two words.
We exchanged rings, which was kind of a cluster with as badly as our hands were shaking, but with some cursing, laughing, and more cursing, we slid the bands onto each other’s ring fingers.<
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“By the power vested in me by the state of Nevada,” the officiant said, “I now pronounce you married. Darren. Andreas.” He beamed. “You may kiss your husband.”
Our eyes locked, and I wrapped my arms around Darren. He grinned. Whispering just loud enough for me to hear, he said, “This beats the hell out of kissing in a hospital bed, doesn’t it?”
I almost burst out laughing, but he kissed me, and the world . . . was just . . . still. People were applauding, and my heart was pounding, and the officiant was saying something, but the only thing I could focus on was the man in my arms.
We’d done it. We were married. I was his no matter what, but now it was on paper.
I drew back and looked into his eyes, overwhelmed by everything. “I love you, Darren.”
He smirked. “I know.”
“Shut up.”
And just because I could, I kissed my husband again.
Oh my God, I was married. Married to Andreas. I had a ring on my finger and flower petals stuck to the soles of my shoes and a stepdaughter—a daughter, holy shit, I was a parent now—in my arms as we walked to dinner, asking me why I hadn’t thrown a bouquet.
“’Cause then I could have caught it,” she said earnestly. “And then I could get married too.”
“Not for another twenty years at least,” Andreas interjected.
Emily pouted for a moment, then grinned. “Then Erin could have caught it, and she could get married!”
I figured it was time to head things off at the pass before Emily started questioning her sister and Zach again. I held on to her with one arm—which was harder than it had been just a month ago, she was growing so fast—and detached my boutonniere. It was a single red rosebud nestled in white baby’s breath, and I managed to pin it to the strap of Emily’s dress without sticking either of us. “It’s not a bouquet, but this way you can still have some flowers.”
